Dragon Pearl
by Enide
Summary: After the Star Forge, Bastila returns to Coruscant to face her dying mother and fight her inner demons. LSM Revan.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. Please don't sue.

* * *

"How is she?"

The doctor cast an appraising glance at the young woman who appeared beside him. Her slender body was tightly coiled, but her features remained smooth and her demeanor unruffled. Still, he wasn't fooled. I may not be a Jedi, he thought, but that girl is using all her strength not to run away.

Not that he enjoyed visiting this particular patient, either. From the day she checked herself in three weeks ago, Helena Shan had been demanding and difficult. Between her complaints about the food and the room temperature, she insisted that she be notified the _very second_ her daughter arrived.

"_She's a very important Jedi," Helena intoned to the medical droids surrounding her. "She will not be pleased to find out that you're freezing her poor, dying mother to death."_

Helena had no visitors until this moment, and the doctor wondered about this figure that faced him now, her large brown eyes accentuated by the pallor of her skin. She looks like she's been to hell and back, the doctor mused. He consulted his datapad.

"She took a turn for the worse a couple of weeks ago," he replied, "but we've been able to stabilize her condition." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "She hasn't much time, though."

A subtle wave of emotion rippled across the young woman's features before she quickly composed herself and straightened her spine. "How long?" she asked, her eyes expressionless, but the grim set of her mouth betrayed her concern.

Yes, that one's a phoenix, the doctor thought, but she's got a few tail feathers singed. He cleared his throat. "At the most, a few weeks. But there will come a time very soon when we won't be able to manage her pain any longer."

The young woman's hand went unconsciously to the pocket of the austere Jedi robes she wore. "Do all you can," came the steely reply. "And spare no expense."

* * *

Bastila's fingers twirled the small round object in her pocket nervously as she watched her mother sleep. Helena was thinner than when Bastila last saw her on Tatooine, her parchment skin stretched tight across the sharp planes of her face. The older woman's brows knit together and she moaned fretfully in her sleep.

"Shh," Bastila said, smoothing her free hand over her mother's hair. "Rest easy – mother." She nearly choked on that last word, and she wondered again what she was doing here, sitting with this dying woman whom she barely knew. Who she would never know, never understand, she thought balefully.

"No," she whispered, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead with the tips of her fingers. She fought to dam the wave of rage and hate that flooded her brain. I can't deal with this right now, she thought desperately. It's just – it's just too much . . . .

Claustrophobic and terrified at the emotions boiling inside her, she made her way swiftly to the door. Bastila clutched at the object in her hand, her nails digging painfully into her palm. For a moment, she felt a soothing warmth emanating from the object's core. She paused, pressing her feverish cheek against the cool metal of the door. Reaching out through the Force, she called to Revan – softly, hesitantly – through their bond.

The flood of love and reassurance she received in return was in such contrast to her own earlier emotions that her knees buckled, and she leaned heavily on the door. _When will I be strong enough?_, she asked him. _When will I no longer be afraid?_

His answer came over a great distance – he had gone with Canderous and Master Vandar to survey the damage the Jedi Enclave had sustained in the Sith attack on Dantooine .

_Use the Force_, he replied. _It will show you the truth you seek. _

_You always make it sound so easy._ Her lips curved in a bitter smile.

_It's not. _She sensed his gentle rebuke. _But you already have all the answers you seek, my love. Each challenge you face will grant you more understanding._

_Is this one of my challenges? _Bastila cast a wry glance over her shoulder at her mother's sleeping form.

_You know it is, Princess. _

_Princess? _She wrinkled her nose in annoyance. _I see Canderous has been a bad influence. _She sighed. _I wish you were here. _

_Don't worry, my sweet. I'll be back soon and then you won't be rid of me. We have unfinished business, as well._

A wave of heat suffused her body at his words, and her cheeks were stained bright crimson. Bastila shivered, and tried to compose herself.

"Bastila? Is that you? Is it really you?" said a plaintive voice behind her.

She started at the intrusion, and her contact with Revan slipped away. No, don't go yet, she thought. But he was already gone. She sighed and turned toward Helena.

"Yes, mother, I am here," she cringed inwardly at the irritation in her voice.

Her mother stiffened, and raised her chin haughtily. "Well, it's about time," she sniffed. "I've been here for weeks without one word from you."

Bastila could barely harness the rage that flared within her so easily these days. Even reciting the Jedi code was not enough – only two or three hours of sparring could sap the pent-up energy her emotions created. All she wanted at this moment was to rip her own mother in half, and it scared her.

Once again, her hand sought the solace of the object in her pocket. Feeling its comfortable, warm presence gave her a small measure of peace. It was enough to keep her from inflicting physical damage, but her tongue was another matter.

"Perhaps I could have been here sooner, mother," she placed a biting emphasis on the last word, "but I got waylaid by a Sith lord. Although I must say his tortures were easier to bear than this visit."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Bastila wished she could snatch them back. But they hung in the air between the two women, dark and hurtful. The older woman blanched and a machine nearby beeped ominously.

"Please," Helena entreated. "Please, just go."

* * *

Helena sighed as the door slid closed. Another grand reunion for the Shan women, she thought bitterly. She leaned back on the pillows and watched Bastila's hooded figure out the window as she slipped down the path away from the hospital.

Biting back her disappointment, Helena turned away from the window. For weeks, she'd let the excitement – the hope – of having one last chance to see Bastila, to make her understand . . . . Helena shook her head. What had possessed her to speak that way? It certainly didn't help matters. I'm the last person who should give her a hard time.

Helena ached at the change the past few weeks had wrought on her daughter. She saw Bastila's pallor, the slight slump of her shoulders. Gone were her arrogance, her confidence, and the brown eyes that looked so much like her own reflected a secret sorrow. She looks like I did at that age, Helena thought, and her heart contracted. She wished that she could hold her and smooth the trouble from her daughter's brow – something Bastila never allowed as a child – but the time was not right, and Helena feared it never would be.

She closed her eyes and a single tear slid down her weathered cheek. The events of her life, carried on a current of memory, flowed past her mind's eye. What could I have done differently, she asked herself, and not for the first time. How did I fail her so utterly?


	2. Chapter 2

Bastila awoke as the dawn sent the first tentative fingers of light over the horizon. It was her favorite time of day – the Jedi Temple was enveloped in an air of peace and anticipation, waiting for the day's activity to begin. She drew up her knees and stared out at the verdant gardens outside her window. She had a sudden vision of Revan, asleep on the Ebon Hawk. Bastila smiled at the picture of him, his dark hair tousled, his breathing deep and even.

The image faded and her gaze fell on an old holocron sitting on a nearby table. Cracked and weather-beaten, it was all she had left of her father. After they found the holocron on Tatooine, Revan convinced her to give her mother a second chance. Bastila blushed in shame when she thought of the disastrous visit with her mother yesterday. Twisting the bed sheet in knots, she wondered how she would be able to face Helena again.

I have to, she thought. I can't let the old hurts continue to fester. It will only lead me back to the Dark Side. She shuddered and buried her face in her hands. If there is one thing I cannot do, she vowed, I cannot fall again.

"There will be no more falling for you, missy," Jolee Bindo's words from yesterday echoed in her head. He'd given her a stern lecture after she told him what happened at the hospital.

"Oh, Jolee," she sighed. "Ever since – since what happened, I can't seem to suppress my emotions like I used to – everything seems to just tumble out all over the place."

"Hrmph," he grunted disdainfully. "Reason number 130 why I'm not a part of the order. All those platitudes about 'there is no emotion' and all you wind up with is a bunch of confused youngsters. You don't control your emotions by suppressing them."

"But –"

"No buts, missy." He handed her a datapad. "You read this. None of that cryptic Jedi business. Sometimes you need science." He tapped his temple. "Emotion and memory are irrevocably linked. It's hard-wired in our brains. Every time you feel anger, sorrow, fear or joy, the emotion of the moment is built on the memories of when you last felt those emotions.

"It's a cascading effect," he continued. "That's why people react to things all out of proportion to the situation at hand. When you feel helpless, you're feeling every other time you ever felt helpless in your life. Some memories are bigger triggers than others. The trick is finding those triggers and defusing them."

Bastila shook her head. "I still don't –"

"That's enough talking," he said. "I need my rest. Now shoo!"

* * *

Bastila shook her head and brought herself back to the present. She realized that despite all of the upheaval from the day before, her dreams had been blissfully uneventful. It was the first time since the Star Forge that she'd slept through the night. The dreams began during those long nights on the Ebon Hawk as the ship made its way back to Coruscant.

Beneath her feet, the Star Forge pulsed, alive and deadly, its Dark Side energy a current that passed within her, making her body feel vibrantly alive and empty at the same time. A hunger burned within her, gnawing at her mind and soul. She needed –

_Power,_ the word throbbed within her chest, in time to the Star Forge's rhythm. She was a conduit of the greatest power of all, housed here within the Star Forge. She drew upon the energy and focused it with her talent into her battle meditation. Through her whim alone, she could direct the ebb and flow of the battle. The ships and men that surrounded her where nothing but pawns, living and dying as it suited her.

Bastila bared her teeth in a feral mockery of a smile, the dark veins that marred her face spreading as she did so. But she did not mind. Who needed to be beautiful when you could make men bow at your feet with just a wave of the hand?

The door slid open. Bastila turned to find Revan, Jolee and Juhani in the doorway. For a brief moment, she was disappointed to note that she hadn't felt his presence before then. She noted with distaste that a part of her missed their bond, the bond she had broken.

Just after Malak captured her on the Leviathan, while she was still weak and naïve, she had closed herself off to their bond. To protect _him_, the former Dark Lord of the Sith. How pathetic, she hissed to herself. If she hadn't been so sanctimonious in the beginning, she could have used that bond to weaken him. But it was no matter – the Star Forge gave her more than enough power to turn him or defeat him, it didn't matter which.

Inside her head, a voice that had been her constant companion since the Leviathan hissed. _Finish him! He has turned away from you too many times._

"Yes," she murmured, igniting her lightsaber. "I must end this." As Revan stepped forward, she raised her hand and closed it into a fist, crushing the life out of his two companions.

_(This isn't right – I didn't kill them!)_

She noticed something dark and dangerous flare in his eyes, and she smiled. She also noticed how reluctantly he ignited his own lightsaber. It angered her to think he would still presume to care about her, not after he refused to join her.

_Use that hatred, _the voice cried. _Punish him for his insincerity. _

Bastila struck the first blow, feeling her hatred fuel the emptiness inside her. Revan parried, but did not move to attack.

"Fight me, damn you!"

"No," was his quiet reply.

Bastila screamed in frustration. _He doesn't love you, _the voice told her._ He stood by and watched Saul Karath torture you for nothing! One word would have stopped the pain._ Her lightsaber arced through the air, forcing him back.

_You left me for dead on the Leviathan. _Bastila was dimly aware that the voice was now screaming, and that it was her own. _You knew I was no match for Malak – if you really loved me, you wouldn't have left me to face him on my own. _

Revan's back was now against the wall. He had no where to turn. He switched off his lightsaber and looked at her sadly.

"I love you, Bastila, and I can't ever abandon you, ever," he said simply.

"Then you are a fool," she replied, before she brought the lightsaber down and cleaved him in two.

_(No, no, NO!)_

_Bastila, my love, awaken._

Bastila opened her eyes and blinked at the utter darkness that surrounded her. Over the lingering whispers in her mind, she dimly heard Juhani and Mission's breathing as they slept peacefully in their nearby bunks. She hugged herself for a moment, staring at the ceiling, willing her heartbeat to slow.

Malak is dead, the Star Forge destroyed. He can't get to me any longer, she told herself over and over.

Once she calmed herself, she wiped away the tears that still streamed down her cheeks.

A new whisper, sweet and low, filled her mind. _Bastila . . . _

She realized then who had snatched her from that terrible nightmare. Revan.

Closing her eyes, she wondered where she would find the strength to get up. Despite her mental exhaustion, her body seemed to move of its own accord, and soon she found herself standing in the doorway of the cargo hold.

Revan looked up from his meditation. He stood, and without a word, he motioned her to come closer.

It was the first time they'd been alone since the Star Forge, since she told him she loved him. She hung back, half afraid that she was still in the temple, and that this moment was merely a fever dream. He smiled, and called her again.

"Bastila."

With shy, halting steps, she moved toward his outstretched hand. As she drew near, he wrapped an arm around her waist and held her close, breathing in the scent of her hair.

Bastila clung to him, her arms going around his strong back. She hadn't been held this way since – since she was six, when her father . . . . Bastila bit her lip, trying to catch hold of the memory, but it was slippery, and she was left with nothing but a vague impression of her father's worried face.

Pulling away, Revan held her face in her hands, his thumb gently caressing her tear-stained cheek. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose. She closed her eyes as his lips softly brushed hers. She sighed and wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss.

Bastila opened herself to him, allowing herself to embrace the joy that filled her. She smiled – for the first time since they left Dantooine – as she kissed him back.

But a sudden ripple in the Force, faraway and faint, made her shiver in apprehension. She cast her senses out through the Force and felt the evil that lurked in the shadows. The chilling thoughts came unbidden, and she tried unsuccessfully to shove the looming dread away. It's waiting, she thought. Whatever it is, it will be here sooner than we know. Her eyes snapped open and she stepped out of Revan's embrace to study him fearfully.

"Don't go," she begged.

He looked at her for a long moment, searching her eyes for the source of her alarm. Finally, Revan brushed the loose tendrils of air from her face and pulled her toward him again. "I'm here for as long as you want me," he said gravely.

In response, Bastila held him closer, knowing that while he meant what he said, it wasn't quite the truth.

* * *

Bastila turned the memory of that night over in her mind. She knew, deep down, that part of her healing would be coming to terms with the fact that Revan would leave eventually. But today, she mind skipped over the troubling thought and honed in on the memory from her youth that had almost resurfaced.

No, it wasn't quite a memory, she thought. Just an image, a vague impression. Bastila bit her lip and frowned. I was six years old, she thought. It must have happened sometime before my parents sent me to the Jedi. Something bad happened that day, but what?

She stood and walked to where the holocron lay. She picked it up gingerly and turned it over in her hand. She thought about what Jolee had said about memory and emotion and wondered if finding out what happened was another of the challenges Revan talked about. She set the holocron down and pinched the bridge of her nose. There was no sense in worrying about it now, when there were no answers immediately forthcoming, she thought. The Force will show me what I need to know. She began to get dressed.

Today was a new day, and there was much to make of it.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has written reviews. Your comments have been very thoughtful and have helped me to shape the story a little better. This is the first piece of fan fiction I've written and the first story I've written in a long time, so my writing is pretty rusty. I won't be able to post again for the next week or so, but I'm hoping to finish up the story shortly. Thanks again.

* * *

Helena spent the better part of the night drifting in and out of the past, until she found herself awake and firmly in the present as the dawn broke. She stared listlessly at the shiny metal face of the chrono for an hour, each minute ticking by with all the speed of a bantha. Her mind went over her mental checklist of aches and pains as she stared at the unmoving numbers. Head? Check. Arms? Check. Feet? Check. Heart? Not so good.

She stirred but said nothing when the medical droid floated in, its golden exterior catching the first rays of sunlight from the window, causing her to blink from the glare. The droid scanned her, beeping and clicking quietly. A mechanical arm extended from its side and gave her two injections: the first was a synthesized kolto extract, highly experimental, and then a sedative. Helena tensed as the treatment literally burned its way through her bloodstream, seeking out her illness, until the sedative began to take its effect.

"Dwooo," the droid said, and made its way through the doorway. Helena watched it go through her half-closed eyes, and thought she saw Bastila standing beside the bed, where the droid once was. It even looked like she was smiling. And holding a pazaak deck.

Must be the drugs, Helena thought before her eyes closed completely.

* * *

When the sedative wore off, she was surprised to find her daughter sitting placidly on the floor, meditating. Helena took a few minutes to look at her, taking in every inch of her face. She has Jore's jaw and nose, she thought, but her personality came from me, Force help her.

Bastila's eyes opened and she gave her mother a faint smile. Helena's heart threatened to leap out of her chest.

"You're awake," her daughter said.

"Yes," Helena whispered, afraid to speak, in case this was really a dream.

Bastila stood and sat down in the chair next to the bed. She pulled a small table between them and took out a pazaak deck and began to shuffle.

"Care to play? Republic Senate rules?"

The two women spent the day in companionable silence, playing pazaak and watching holovids. Nothing was said about the argument from the day before.

We're like two strangers, Helena thought once. But it's preferable to fighting like kath hounds, she added. Perhaps it's better this way.

Later, Bastila sat and watched her mother as she slept, ruminating over the day's events. Take it slow, keep it light, she told herself. There is no emotion, there is peace. Her mouth twisted, and then she yawned. I should go soon, she thought, looking at the chrono. But not yet. Her hand sought the talisman in her pocket, twirling it in her fingers. I'll stay a few more minutes . . . .

* * *

Bastila woke with a start, her head pounding and her neck stiff. Her left arm, numb and immobile, was resting on the table in front of her, the elbow bent at a right angle to support her head. Her right arm was extended over her head, her hand open and slack.

"Oh no!" Bastila cried, sitting up suddenly. Her useless left arm flopped painfully against the table. She checked the pockets of her robes. Nothing. Flexing the fingers of her left hand, she looked around her wildly. The dragon pearl was gone. She must have dropped it when she fell asleep, she thought. Pain shot through her arm as the nerves suddenly awakened, but she was too distracted to use the Force to heal it.

Groaning, she lowered herself to the floor and began to search every square inch of the green floor tiles. "Where is it?" she asked herself. "Where could it have gone?" She crawled around the bed and ran her hands along the joints where the floor met the wall. Nothing. "Frack," she cursed as tears of frustration welled in her eyes, clouding her vision. She wiped them away with an impatient hand.

"Oh come on," she entreated, her heart thumping in her chest. Fool, she thought. You stupid, irresponsible fool. Crawling back around the bed on her hands and knees, she looked frantically under the chair. Then around the bed again. She sat up, rubbing her hands across her eyes. Think, she told herself. Where could it have fallen? Her heart began to beat double time and her breath caught in her throat. What if someone had come in during the night and stolen it?

"No," she moaned.

"What's the matter?" Helena asked, startled by her daughter's desolate tone.

"I've lost something," Bastila said, resuming her search.

"What did you lose?"

"It's a pearl, a dragon pearl that Revan gave me," she muttered distractedly.

"Revan?" her mother asked, her eyes growing wide. She paled noticeably. "As in _Darth_ Revan?" Helena's eyes narrowed and she regarded her daughter thoughtfully. "Was he –?"

Bastila stopped her search and sat back on her haunches, and even that position, her Jedi robes draped around her in an almost prim fashion. "Yes, mother, Darth Revan. And yes, he was the man with me when I saw you on Tatooine."

"Darth Revan?" Helena echoed uncertainly.

"Yes – I mean, no," Bastila hastily corrected. "He _was_ Darth Revan, but not any more."

Helena looked at her daughter like she'd suddenly sprouted a third eye. Bastila laughed softly and stood at her mother's bedside. How strange this all must sound, she thought. I can't believe it myself, and I was there.

"It's a long story," Bastila said, uncertain about how much she should say. "I was part of a strike team that boarded his flagship –"

"But that's so dangerous!"

Bastila took a deep breath to clear her irritation and patted Helena's hand. "The life of a Jedi is more than just meditating and reading dusty old datapads," she said gently.

She told her mother how she rescued Revan after Malak's attack and about their search for the Star Forge. She glossed over some of their more dangerous missions, but she told the unflinching truth about her fall. Each word that fell from her lips excised another weight from her heart.

"And so he saved me," she said at last. "At the very end, on the Star Forge, he opened our bond – the one I thought I had broken – wide. The full force of his love and light hit me like a shockwave. I was physically thrown back by it." Bastila paused, catching her breath. She had never told anyone, not even the Jedi Masters, about this moment. "Something inside me, the good part of me – the part I thought I had killed when I fell – sprang to life, as if it had been waiting all this time. It was weak, sure, not what it once was, but it was enough to make me realize that if having all the power in the galaxy meant losing Revan – losing myself – then I didn't want it."

She stopped and looked at her mother. She could feel the terror, guilt and – love? – emanating from her aura. What must she think of me? Bastila thought.

"Thank you for telling me," the older woman said gently. Unsure of what to say next, Bastila looked down and began to nervously smooth the sheet. Her fingers grazed something small and hard and her eyes widened as joy surged through her. Nestled gently in the fold of the sheet was the dragon pearl.

"There it is!" she cried, holding the jewel triumphantly. She handed it to her mother.

"Oh, Bastila," Helena breathed, holding the gem up to the light. "It's so beautiful."

"I know," she said, staring down at her hands, which were twisted nervously in her lap. A small smile turned up the corner of her mouth, and she sat for a moment, remembering.

* * *

A week after arriving on Coruscant, Bastila found herself wandering the halls of the Jedi Temple aimlessly. She knew she needed to visit her mother, but thoughts of Revan occupied her mind. As soon as the _Ebon Hawk_ landed, the Jedi Masters had whisked the crew off in several directions to be debriefed. Like on Dantooine, she was in the company of Masters Vandar, Zhar and Vrook, but this time, Vrook's disapproving gaze was focused on her, not Revan.

For a while, she threw herself wholeheartedly into the studies and meditation they prescribed for her. She was eager to wipe away the taint of the Dark Side and become the strong, upright Jedi she once was. She tried, Force knows she tried, but the old anger lingered in her and the teachings of the ancient masters rang hollow in her ears. What once made so much sense was now a riddle; what once kept her grounded made her feel anchorless, adrift on the stormy sea of her own emotion and doubt.

Then there were the whispers and the stares. The padawans and the knights all treated her with respect, but their curiosity enveloped her like a fog. She knew what they must say behind closed doors. She was once again held up as an example, but this time for what could go wrong. A part of her old pride bemoaned her status, but she ruthlessly reminded herself that this was all her own making. Bastila began to seriously question if her destiny was to remain with the Jedi, or if it wouldn't be better for all involved if she left the order completely.

But if I am no longer a Jedi, then who would I be? she asked herself. It was then that all the voices in her head fell silent.

Carth had come to say goodbye the night before. He was leaning against the wall outside the mediation room when she saw him, a familiar figure in his bright orange jacket with the ever-present blasters strapped to his lean hips. He bowed to her as she approached, and offered his arm.

With a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, she took his arm as they strolled through the compound.

"You have to go," she said quietly. Carth nodded.

"I've been asked to investigate some Sith activity on the Outer Rim," he said.

"It never ends, doesn't?" she asked ruefully. Carth squeezed her hand.

"No, I don't think it does."

Bastila stopped suddenly and turned to him. She looked as if she were truly seeing him for the first time. He's so lonely, she thought. He wraps his guilt and pain around him like a blanket. "Promise me something," she said, not quite sure what she was going to ask.

Carth's brows came together as he regarded her. "Okay," he said warily.

"Promise me that you'll find Dustil," she blurted. "He needs you – he needs to understand why you sent him away."

His eyes widened. "But I didn't send him away."

Bastila blushed. "That's right, I'm sorry, you're right." She laughed nervously. "How silly of me."

The silence stretched between them and Bastila squirmed under Carth's searching gaze. She bit her lip and took his arm again. The two continued their walk until they reached the gardens.

"What I meant to say," she said hastily. "Is that you deserve to be happy."

"Of course," Carth said, looking down at her. "And so do you."

"I am," she lied. "I'm back where I belong."

Carth snorted but let the comment pass. When they reached the temple gate, he turned to her and took her hand. "Until we meet again," he said. "May the Force be with you."

"Take care, my friend," she whispered. Carth kissed her lightly on the cheek and bowed.

"Give your mother my regards," he replied.

As for the others, she had seen Juhani and Jolee several times during her training and meditation, and had glimpsed Mission, Zaalbar and Canderous in the hallways of the Temple, although she hadn't much time to say hello, or at least that's what she told herself. In truth, despite the shared dangers on the way to the Star Forge, she was never part of the camaraderie that had developed between the ragtag members of the Ebon Hawk's crew. She had always stood aloof, using her over-inflated sense of right and wrong as a barrier, even with her fellow Jedi.

Except of course, for Revan. He had pushed his way past her defenses with his teasing, his power, the raw force of his personality. But that wasn't all – it was the way he looked at her, as if she were the only person in the galaxy. Even in the heat of battle, sometimes he would glance at her and for the briefest of moments, his eyes would soften and a ghost of a grin, lopsided and tender, would play on his lips. Just for a split second, a moment lost in time. Even as he looked at her, he never lost his rhythm; his attention never seemed to waver from the enemy at hand. It was just a secret shared between the two of them, even in the midst of chaos.

What amazed her the most was that he still looked at her like that on the Star Forge, even as she tried to turn him to the Dark Side. He refused to fall, but he still looked at her with love in his eyes. To her dying day, she would never understand it.

She paused. The last time she saw Revan was as they disembarked, and she missed him. Her longing was a thread that ran beneath her consciousness, the pain unbearable, yet sweet. Her mind returned to it over again like a child wiggling a loose tooth. Bastila wondered if the masters knew how much she loved him – needed him – and if this was their way of punishing her.

Lost in her thoughts, she barely had time to let out a surprised gasp when an arm snaked around her waist and pulled her into a nearby room. For a panicked moment, she thought of Malak, but her fears dissipated at the warm voice in her ear.

"Alone at last," Revan whispered.

Her relief was short lived; an all-consuming rage exploded like a starburst before her eyes and she elbowed him in the solar plexus. She turned as he let out a strangled cough. "Don't ever do that again," she hissed. "I'll kill you next time!"

"Bastila?" Revan stared at her while he fought to breathe. She could feel his mind searching hers.

"I'm sorry." She forced herself to relax, but the anger still simmered below the surface. "You scared me half to death."

Regaining his breath, Revan gave her a roguish smile. "Thought I was some Mandalorian marauder threatening your virtue?" His grin widened and a wicked light came into his eyes. "Although that doesn't sound half bad," he said as he bent down to kiss her.

She couldn't stay mad at him. Hadn't she wished for this very opportunity every hour for the last three days? She yielded to his mouth and met him with a hunger that matched his own.

With a groan, Revan broke the kiss and ran an agitated hand through his hair. "Had we world enough and time," he said, quoting a line from an ancient poem. "But, unfortunately, kissing you wasn't the only reason I sought you out."

Bastila tried unsuccessfully to hide her disappointment, which prompted a soft laugh from Revan. "Believe me, I feel the same way," he said. "But Canderous and I have to go Dantooine for a few days."

"Oh? That's nice," she said, making a grand gesture of straightening her disheveled robes, hoping the sudden ache in her heart wouldn't show on her face. Tears gathered in her eyes like a coming storm.

"Hey, look at me," Revan said gently. He tilted her face to his, but she kept her eyes averted. "Bastila?" She shook her head, stubbornly refusing to look at him.

Revan sighed and pulled her close. She buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in the warm masculine scent of him, and tried to keep a hold of herself. "I know it's hard," he said, stroking her hair. "You've gone through a lot and the masters really aren't helping things."

"I'm fine," she lied.

"Oh really?" he smirked. "The Bastila I know would have laid me out before I got within a foot of her. Or is this like the time you 'misplaced' your lightsaber on Taris?"

"How many times do I have to explain that – ooh! You're impossible!" She pulled away from him, her chin lifted.

"There's my girl," he said. He reached out and took her hand in both of his, his smile tender. "I have something for you."

Her heart skipped a beat. "You do?"

"Here," he said, placing a small drawstring bag in her hand. With trembling fingers, she opened the soft pouch, and a small orb rolled out of it and nestled in her palm.

It was a krayt dragon pearl.

Bastila stared at the jewel for several long moments, enraptured with its luminescent beauty. Perfectly round, the gem was a stark white, like the sands of Rakata Prime. What at first glance looked like a flaw was actually a thin ribbon of gray that ran through the center of the pearl, giving the color added depth and beauty.

This wasn't a gift to be given lightly. It was a gift of abounding love that came from one of the most generous people she had ever met.

She didn't deserve it.

"Oh, Revan, no," she stuttered, holding her hand out to him. "I can't take this – it's too much. You should use it in your lightsaber."

"Please, I insist," he said firmly, closing her fingers around the jewel. "I'm no expert, but I was able to shine and shape it enough to make it worth a fair amount of credits. It should be enough to help your mother."

"No," she said, her pride rearing. "I can't accept this." She shook her head and handed the pearl back to him. She depended on him for so much all ready – she couldn't bear to take credits, as well.

"Take it," he said. "It's what your father would have wanted."

It was the wrong thing to say. _There he goes, ordering you around again like you're just a child_, the hated voice inside her head whispered mockingly. Bastila clenched her fists. "You know nothing about my father," she said, her eyes boring holes in him. Adrenaline surged through her veins, making her muscles twitch. She wanted to take her fist and hit him right in the jaw, to see his hazel eyes widen in pain and shock. She wanted to kick and pummel and scream at him until he was as bruised and useless as she felt. It was all so wrong, but Force help her, she wanted to lay waste to everything around her, including herself.

At the edges of the turmoil in her mind, she felt Revan gently probing her thoughts through their Force bond. Instinctively, Bastila slammed a wall up in her mind, shutting him out. His arms tightened on her shoulders, and he looked as if he wanted to shake her.

"I don't know if you want me to kiss you or punish you," he said softly.

Both, she thought. She sighed. Anger and shame were her constant companions these days, and the meditation and lectures prescribed by the Jedi masters had done nothing to tame either. I've already lost so much of myself and who I thought I was, she thought miserably. And I stand to lose so much more if I'm not careful. I can't continue to depend on him to be my moral compass. I have to learn to stand on my own.

"Let me in," he beseeched. "Let me help you. I'll always take care of you."

_Yeah right._

"Shut up!" she whispered fiercely. The voice in her head stilled.

Surprised, Revan took a step back. "I'm sorry?"

"I, uh, no, it's nothing," she said, looking away from him. "I didn't say anything."

Revan opened his mouth as if to argue, and then thought better of it. He kissed her again gently. "This is not how I wanted this to go," he said quietly. "I don't want us to spend these last few moments arguing."

Bastila looked up at him. "When do you leave?"

He looked at his chrono and grimaced. "In thirty standard minutes."

Guilt pricked her. "You're right, Revan. I'm so sorry I've been such a twit. Please forgive me."

"Always."

The landing pad was desolate as Revan looked in her eyes one last time before he boarded the _Ebon Hawk_. Master Vandar and Canderous were already inside the ship, preparing for launch.

"I love you," he said fiercely.

"I love you," Bastila said. The words felt metallic in her mouth, like blood. A sense of foreboding threatened to overwhelm her, but she pushed it back resolutely.

His arms were suddenly around her and he kissed her, uncaring of who might see. "It will get better, I promise," he whispered in her ear as she felt his hand slip into her pocket. With one final look that was almost a caress, he turned and boarded the ship. Like a coward, Bastila turned and ran into the temple, not stopping until she reached the safety of her room. Acrid bile filled her throat, making it raw, but she did not cry.

After several hours, she roused herself and began to undress. As she folded her robe, something small clattered to the floor and rolled underneath the desk. Bastila stopped, a hand at her throat, as she stared at the object gleaming in the shadows.

It was the dragon pearl.

* * *

"And he gave this to you?" Helena's question interrupted her thoughts.

"Hm? Oh, yes, he did," she murmured, her mind still far away.

The older woman regarded her daughter a while before she reached over and placed the jewel in Bastila's hand. She could barely repress the joy that surged through her when Bastila's cool, smooth hand did not pull away as she had expected it to. Forcing herself to hold it for just a moment longer – but not too long – Helena removed her hand from her daughter's and leaned back on the pillows. For the first time in many years, she smiled.

"Then that's all I need to know."


	4. Chapter 4

The corridor was filled with younglings trooping out of the meditation room in single file. Ready to burst from the effort of keeping still and silent for half an hour, their exuberant chatter ricocheted off the stone walls, magnifying each high, childish voice. The tumult was punctuated by the occasional stern admonishment by Master Vrook. Chastened, the younglings would quiet for a moment, only for their chatter to slowly build in intensity until it again reached a fever pitch.

Bastila stood in the shadow of a nearby doorway, unnoticed by the group. She bit her lips to hide a smile. For all of his dour prickliness, Master Vrook could never seem to repress the youngling's buoyant energy without resorting to threats.

A boy, about seven standard years old, lagged behind, his fine, straight blond hair falling in his eyes. Bastila could feel the Force in him, nascent but strong. He's up to something, Bastila thought. He paused for a moment, as if deciding something. Then, in a flash, he caught up with the group and yanked the hair of one of the little girls. The girl stopped short, and he grinned at her broadly. The rest of the class turned the corner, and the pair was alone in the corridor.

"Ow!" cried the little girl, who Bastila now recognized as Mina, who was about the boy's age. She was a beautiful child, her features refined and symmetrical, her hair a glorious riot of caramel-colored curls. Her porcelain skin was almost translucent, with dark brown eyes framed by thick lashes. Those eyes now flashed in anger. "Quit it, Caleb!" Mina rubbed the sore spot on her head. "I'll tell Master Vrook, and you'll be sorry."

The boy's face flushed, his smile disappearing. "Tattletale," he said, and Force pushed her to the floor. Mina landed on her behind, the wind knocked out of her. She stared up at Caleb, fear and shock darkening her eyes as she struggled to catch her breath.

Caleb stood, frozen, his eyes filled with horror, the color drained from his face. Suddenly, Mina let out a blood-piercing howl and Caleb cringed. Bastila stepped from the doorway.

"That was a frivolous use of the Force, young man," she said sternly. Surprised at her sudden appearance, Caleb looked up at her with wide, fearful eyes. "Knight Shan, I – I –"

"Just a minute," she said, motioning him to stay put. She knelt beside the crying Mina and gathered the girl in her arms. "Shhh," she said softly, wiping the girl's tears away with the sleeve of robe. "You're okay," she comforted, using the Force to heal the slight bruising on Mina's backside. The girl clung to her, sobbing as if her heart were broken. A mixture of emotions stirred inside Bastila. She had a sudden, bittersweet longing for a little girl of her own, one with hazel eyes and a stubborn spirit. A daughter with a smile like Revan's. The girl's arms tightened around her neck, and she sighed and pushed those thoughts away, chiding herself for her foolishness. There was plenty of time for daydreams, she told herself, but right now there were more pressing issues.

Bastila looked up to see Caleb, still standing in the hallway, shuffling his feet. Remorse rolled off him in waves. Force powers or no, she thought with a tinge of frustration and anger, they're still children in the end, and sometimes they need more than a creaky old Jedi master to look after them.

A memory, sharp and sudden, revealed itself. Bastila was six years old again, running through the temple garden, chasing – being chased? She'd been with the Jedi a few months, and the awful homesickness that stalked her days had just started to subside. For the first time in her life, Bastila was in one place long enough to make friends her own age, and she was happy.

She and her new friends were running, eager to take advantage of a few stolen moments to play. Adele, with her long blond hair and greenish-gray eyes, ran a few steps ahead. Forna, a light salmon-colored Twi'lek, brought up their rear. Grinning, Bastila turned her head to see where Orek was –

And that's when she tripped over her own feet.

Suddenly, the ground rose up to meet her, and she slid along the gravel path, scraping knees and elbows in the process. Small specks of blood appeared as if by magic on her skin. Tears filled her eyes, but there were no soothing words of comfort, no concerned questions from her father. Her mother was not there with her trusty wet towel to wipe the blood away.

The crushing loneliness she thought had gone sprang on her full force. More than anything, she wanted to see her father's face and to feel her mother's cool hand caressing her cheek. Why am I here, she thought. What did I do that was so bad? Her face crumpled, and a high, piercing cry escaped her lips.

"I want my mommy!" she wailed, curling into a ball, willing all of this to be a bad dream. She heard the approaching footsteps of Master Corigale, a middle-aged red Twi'lek, who to the children's eyes was positively ancient. He knelt beside her, feeling for injuries. Satisfied that her hurts were only minor, he rocked back on his heels and helped her sit up.

"I want my mother," she sniffed.

The Jedi master looked at her with hard eyes that weren't unkind. "Your mother is not here, child. She is far away."

"But I want her!" young Bastila insisted, crying even harder.

Master Corigale took her by the shoulders, pulling her up until she was standing. "Young Bastila," he said, "there comes a time when all of us must learn to stand on our own. Your mother recognized this, which is why she sent you to us."

No. Bastila shook her head. That can't be true. Even mother wouldn't send me here to be by myself. _But you _are_ here_, something in her mind whispered. _And _she_ sent you._

"Then I hate her, and I hate you and I want to go home!"

Master Corigale's eyes were steely, and his grip tightened on her shoulders until she almost cried out in pain. Out of the corner of her eye, Bastila could see Adele and Forna standing together, holding hands, with identical expressions of horror on their faces. Bastila knew her outburst was wrong but she didn't care. She didn't want to be there anymore. Even if her mother didn't want her, she still wanted to go home. If I can go home, she thought, I can be good. I can make her love me.

She was dimly aware that her feet were moving as Master Corigale marched her along the path toward the temple. She looked up at the grim and determined set of his face and wondered if he would send her home. Yes, that's it, she thought. I've been so bad they're never going to keep me. Her heart lifted in hope, only to fall with a resounding thud when he led her into the meditation room. He sat her down in the middle of the hard, cold floor, and took a place in front of her.

"Here we sit, young Bastila," he said. "And here we will stay, until you learn to control that temper of yours."

She shook her head mulishly.

"Then we shall have a long day, and an even longer night," he replied mildly. "Now, repeat after me: 'There is no emotion, there is peace . . . ."

We were in there three days until I broke, repeating that damn Jedi code, Bastila thought. That was when I started to hate my mother. Bastila repressed a shudder and rocked the crying girl in her arms.

Soon the girl's crying subsided. Bastila removed the girl's arms from around her neck and smoothed her tousled hair. Mina wiped away her tears and gave Bastila a grateful smile.

"Are you all right?" Bastila asked. The girl nodded, casting a reproachful glance at the shamefaced Caleb. "Good. Then run and catch up with Master Vrook and tell him I'm having a word with young Caleb."

Mina took a few steps down the hall, and then hung back. She cast an uncertain glance back at Caleb, and then to Bastila, remembering the tales she'd heard about this fallen knight. Bastila smiled at her encouragingly. "Go on, don't worry," she said. "Caleb and I are just going to talk."

The girl nodded again and took off around the corner. Bastila stood, pausing briefly to pick up a datapad that lay discarded on the floor. Distracted, she placed it in the pocket of her robe and turned to her other young charge. She schooled her features into a proper mask of calm and held out her hand. "Come with me, young man."

Reluctantly, Caleb placed his small hand in hers and followed her to the meditation room. The door slid open and he automatically headed toward the open area in the center of the room, but she stopped him.

"This way," she said, gesturing toward a bench in the corner. He followed her, head hung low.

Bastila took a seat on the bench and patted a place next to her. "Sit," she said. The boy complied, and she felt him instinctively searching her mind. She let him see that she wasn't angry, just concerned. She felt him relax just a little.

"What happened back there, Caleb?"

He shook his head, and looked at her miserably. "I – I don't know," he stuttered. He paused, and tried to catch his breath. "I just wanted to touch her hair," he said. "It's so pretty and – " his breath caught in a hitching sob. "I didn't mean to hurt her! I didn't! I got so mad, and it just _happened_," he wailed.

Bastila put an arm around the crying child, who responded by burying his head in her lap. She stroked his hair and let him cry, wondering if this is what his mother would have done. He's so open, so innocent, she thought, feeling the clear blue of his aura enveloping her. I must tread carefully with him.

Caleb sat up and began to speak, his words coming out in hiccupping gasps. "You – understand – don't – you?" His blue eyes were pleading.

Bastila slid off the bench and kneeled on the floor, so that she could be on his eye level. "Yes," she said softly, smoothing his damp hair away from his eyes.

"Am I going to fall to the Dark Side now?" he asked gravely.

Bastila had to close her eyes for the moment and tried hard not to laugh. "No, young Caleb, this doesn't mean you're doomed to fall," she said.

"But, Master Vrook said – "

"Yes, I know what Master Vrook said. But he's wrong."

Caleb's mouth fell open. Bastila smiled.

"Okay, he's half wrong." She watched him wrinkle his brow as he considered this. "Caleb, there's no way to close off your emotions and still be who you are. If you stop feeling anger and hate and passion, you also stop feeling happiness and love."

"You do?"

"Yes. Now try to imagine what kind of world it would be without love and laughter."

Caleb sat for a moment, lost in thought. He shook his head. "I can't."

"That's right," Bastila sat for a moment, coming to her own realizations. "That's right," she repeated.

"What?" Caleb's mind was reaching out for hers again. She gently shut him off from the complicated thoughts that were swirling in her head. She took a deep breath and prayed that what she was about to say would make sense.

"How did you feel when you realized you had hurt Mina?" she asked.

Caleb recoiled, his face twisting in a guilty grimace. "I felt awful," he said.

"Would you ever want to knowingly hurt Mina again?"

"No!" Caleb shook his head forcefully.

"Okay, have you ever done something nice for her?"

He thought for a moment, his finger tapping his chin. "Once, I gave her a flower I picked," he said, brightening at the memory. "She smiled at me."

"How did that feel?"

"It felt good," he grinned.

"Caleb, the Force is a gift, and what we do with that gift has the power to help or hurt people," she said, her expression grave. "Our emotions are also a gift, a gift that can influence our use of the Force." He looked at her, perplexed. Bastila tried a different approach. "Remember when you got mad and used the Force to hurt Mina?"

"Yes," the boy's face fell.

"You didn't think about what you were doing, did you? You just felt and then acted, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"It's the acting without thinking that will lead you down the path of the Dark Side," Bastila said. "You will always have your emotions – to cut yourself off completely from them would be like cutting yourself off from the Force." She took Caleb's hands in hers. "What you must do is accept your emotions and control them, and not let them control you. Every time you feel strongly to act, you must examine your heart and ask why. Is it because it is the right thing to do, or are you hurting someone because you are hurt? Do you understand?"

"Some of it," he said.

"I know, it's a lot to take in," Bastila said ruefully. "I don't understand it all myself. But I see your heart, Caleb, and it's a good one. As long as you can remember how it feels when you hurt someone, I think you will be fine for now."

"You really think so?"

Bastila smiled. "Yes. Now, I want you to do three things for me."

"Okay."

"One, go find Mina and apologize. Two, seek out Master Jolee and tell him what I told you and then ask him to tell you a story. And three, go to Master Vrook and tell him you want to sweep out the council chamber every day this week."

"Aw – " Caleb made a sound of protest.

Bastila gave him a warning look. "Or would you rather I tell Master Vrook what happened?"

Caleb swallowed. "Oh, no, I'll sweep instead."

"As I thought," she said. "Keep in mind how good it feels to help someone. Now shoo!"

After Caleb left, Bastila sat in the meditation room and sighed, exhausted. How had she ever been arrogant enough to think she could be a Jedi master? she asked herself. Such brave and wise words she had spoken. If she could only put them into practice for herself.

She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind. _Jedi are the guardians of peace in the galaxy, _she chanted.

_Jedi use their powers to defend and protect, never to attack others._

She felt her breathing slow, become deep and even.

_Jedi respect all life, in any form._

The furrow between her brows smoothed, and her body began to relax.

_Jedi serve others rather than ruling over them, for the good of the galaxy._

The darkness of her mind began to lighten, as slow, gradual shafts of sunlight came into view, until her vision was filled with white-hot brightness.

_Jedi seek to improve themselves through knowledge and training._

The sunlight gave way to a riot of color and silence was replaced by noise – heady, cacophonous noise. Drawing on the Force, she saw the images sharpen until she was standing in the middle of a sprawling, bustling marketplace.

Sentients of all stripes mingled among the wares for sale, some stopping to haggle while others looked wistfully at the expensive merchandise. Out of the corner of her eye, Bastila saw a little girl, about Mina's age, standing in front of a jeweler's stall. The little girl stood on tiptoe to get a better look at the wares in the merchant's case, her long brown hair spilling down her back in thick waves.

Bastila smiled at the image and a sweet, cloying scent invaded her nostrils.

What is that? she asked herself. It's so familiar, but I haven't smelled it in years. She racked her brain, trying to identify the smell, which on the surface was warm and comforting, but there was a current of menace underneath.

A random thought – but not her own – broke through. _Must find something for the Hutt or he'll have my hide, must find something – ah, that's a pretty one – _

A shadow fell over the little girl, and suddenly the vision began rapidly recede.

No! Bastila thought, but the girl and the marketplace and the shadow were already gone.

Bastila left the meditation chamber deep in thought, ruminating over the images she had seen. The Force is leading me somewhere, she thought. I wonder if this has something to do with why I was sent to Jedi. . . .

A faint, familiar odor filled her nostrils. She took a deep breath, her feet following the path of the scent. Where have I smelled that before? she thought, and her feet picked up their pace when she realized it was the same scent from the vision. She turned a corner and narrowly missed bowling over a padawan. "Sorry," she murmured, trying to slow down, but impatience got the better of her, and she started to run as the scent got stronger.

How strange, she thought, to have not smelled whatever this is for years and then to suddenly smell it in a vision, and now in the temple. The scent grew in its intensity until she found herself surrounded by the heady fragrance.

That's when she almost ran over a familiar blue Twi'lek, hunched over an unwrapped paper package. She stopped short.

"Hello," said Bastila stupidly.

"Bastila, hi," said Mission, surprised to see the Jedi. "Look what Dustil sent!" She waved the package under Bastila's nose, and the scent was so overpowering to her fevered mind that she though she might faint. It was –

"Telosian honeycake?" Mission offered her a piece of the oozing, golden sweet.

"It's my favorite," said Bastila, with an odd crack in her voice.

"Bastila!" Mission cried, alarmed at the tears streaming down the Jedi's face. "Why are you crying?"

"I don't know," she said simply.


End file.
